


Weak

by ironicallyrad



Category: Attack on Titan, JeanMarco - Fandom, Shingeki no Kyojin, aot, snk - Fandom
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Death, I suck at tags, Letter, Love, M/M, attack on titan - Freeform, i'm so sad after writing this, idekay, it hurts, jean x marco - Freeform, jeanmarco, shingeki no kyojin - Freeform, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicallyrad/pseuds/ironicallyrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean writes a letter to Marco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak

Hey.

How are things up there? Hopefully more peaceful than they are down here.

It’s a mess, Marco. It’s a fucking mess. Everyone is going crazy. I like to think I’m the only one who’s still remotely sane. But then, I’m the one writing to my dead best friend, right?

I wish you were here, Marco. I wish you didn’t have to leave. But I’m also glad you’re not here. I’m glad you don’t have to go through the horrible things I have to go through. You deserve much better than this fucking horrible place.

I wish I could be there with you. Sometimes I just feel like giving up. Not fighting back. Just get eaten and finally be reunited with you. Frankly, I don’t know what’s stopping me from just. Dying. Maybe one day I will stop giving two shits about humanity and this god damned awful place and be selfish for once.

God, I just want to see you again. I want to wake up and see you across the room wrapped in a dumb burrito of blankets like I used to. You made everything seem so calm. Watching you made me feel safe. It was just you and your duvets and your peaceful breathing. Sometimes I would just stare at you until everyone else started waking up and all the anxiety came back. The fear. Everything came back. But sometimes I would just not give a damn and allow myself that one moment of peace.

I miss you.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

I miss your stupid freckles and your dumb smile every time I would get too caught up in my stupid angry rants about nothing. I miss how you would let out a small chuckle and just ease everything back into place. I miss how you would comfort me and just know. Just know when I needed to be held. No words. Just your arms around my vulnerable, shaking shoulders. I miss how you asked to sleep next to me the day before we went out to fight the titans for the first time.

Also your last.

I remember you lacing your soft hands around my waist. I remember doing the same and feeling the small dimples on your back. I remember tracing them until I fell asleep, my nose nuzzled into your neck. Lulled by your scent of cinnamon, I felt like I could do anything. I felt so strong but I was so weak. I was just a teenage boy caught up in the moment. Caught up in your stupid musky scent of stupid cinnamon made me feel like I could accomplish anything. But I was just a nobody. I couldn’t accomplish anything. I

I couldn’t even save you.

I remember wanting to say I love you.

I couldn’t, though. I couldn’t do this to you before the day that could potentially destroy everything in our lives. Which it did. I didn’t save you. I never got to say I love you. At least not while you were with me. I did say it. Over and over and over again. When I found you lying there. I whispered it between shaky breaths. I muttered it against my pillow that you had been laying on the night before. Wishing to never smell the smell of cinnamon again. Wishing to have you beside me. I screamed it whenever I thought I was taking my last breath. Because at least my last words would be happy. and honest. In the middle of this gruesome, horrid life of mine.

I wrote it down.

I love you.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

And I want to keep saying it. And I will keep saying it. I just wish you were here to hear them.

 

I’m pathetic. I’m fucking pathetic. Writing to you. I’m even more pathetic for not wanting to stop writing. For not wanting to let go of you.

I don’t want to let go of you, Marco.

It’s been days, maybe years since you left. I don’t know. All I know is that this hole in my chest won’t go away. It’s like I’ve been shot, Marco. I can’t breathe sometimes. Why aren’t you here to comfort me? Why aren’t you here to tell me everything will be okay?

I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, Marco. It hurts. It hurts so much. It’s hurting right now. And I’m crying. Because I’m weak.

I’ll be with you soon, Marco.

I promise.

 

I love you.

 

\- Jean

 


End file.
